Is turned to folly; blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel the
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu! my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.

PROTEUS.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

VALENTINE.
Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave.
To Milan let me hear from thee by letters
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.

PROTEUS.
All happiness bechance to thee in Milan!

VALENTINE.
As much to you at home! and so farewell!

[Exit.]

PROTEUS.
He after honour hunts, I after love;
He leaves his friends to dignify them more:
I leave myself, my friends, and all for love.